"We'll take it that way, at any rate," said Phil. "Burt is not the boy to dream over a chance to help a friend. It won't do for him to forfeit his position with these Tories for our sake, but, trust me, he will manage to send some comfort or assistance before he leaves the _Vixen_." Phil had great faith in the smartness and fidelity of their mutual friend. Andy indulged in all kinds of imaginings as to what shape the efforts of Burt Noble would take in their behalf. He posted himself at one of the windows, and Phil did the same at the other. It was dusk, and dreary waiting in the hold room. Outside, a cloudy evening was fast setting in. The sounds of jollity from the cabin of the _Vixen_ were in sharp contrast to the helpless condition of the two boys and the cheerless prospect upon which they looked. It had been warmer for a day or two, but night was setting in chill and murky. "Something!" suddenly muttered Andy in a quick and excited gasp, and Phil saw what it was that attracted his watchful, staring eyes and sent both arms groping through the window aperture and beyond it. From overhead some one--of course Burt Noble--had lowered a string. At its end dangled a package done up in a towel or a piece of cloth of some kind. In an instant Andy had seized the swaying parcel, broke it from the string, and had the package inside the prison room. Quickly he unrolled the cloth. It contained a short iron thwart pin and a heavy blunt-edged chisel. There was light enough to inspect these, and also to make out some writing in heavy pencil lines on a rough piece of cardboard: "No one on deck, yawl at the side," ran the hasty scrawl. "War will be on inside of a week. Get to Boston, quick." "Bravo!" exulted Andy, on fire with delight. "Burt is a smart boy and a good friend. Phil, to work." Without a word Phil seized the thwart pin. Something that would do staunch prying duty he had wished for all along, and here it was ready to his hand. He got a purchase on one bar and then another, already loosened, and the powerful pressure twisted the lower ends out of their sockets. Forcing the free ends to one side, the avenue to liberty was open at last. "It's a cold plunge," observed Andy, poking his head through the window, with a mock shudder of discomfort. "I wonder which side the yawl is on?" "Never mind the yawl, Andy," said Phil. "Oh,--why not?" Phil's eyes were thoughtful as he pointed to the sailboat, a cable's length in the offing. "Andy," he said, "this is a desperate chance we are taking. We may as well make it complete. Wait ten minutes--by that time it will be dark. We will swim for the sailboat. We can reach it a good deal less certain of discovery than if we go fooling around the side for that yawl." "Whew!" whistled Andy. "Say, can we make it?" "Make what?"